


I'd give you all the years of my life

by Kiros18



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, And Then Some, Angst, Armie Is In Love, Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Heart Break, Loneliness, M/M, Nick Is The Friend We All Need, Timmy Wants To Be Loved, they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:28:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26210404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiros18/pseuds/Kiros18
Summary: Timmy just wants to find his one and true love, but he's looking in all the wrong places.Luckily, Armie would do anything for Timmy though, and if that includes listening to his best friend talking about all of his conquest, while being completely oblivious to Armies feelings, then that is what he will do.Being a little miserable with Timmy is better than not being with Timmy at all. Right?
Relationships: Nick Delli Santi/Armie Hammer, Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 39
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to all of you who's been commenting and giving kudos on my last couple of fics, it means the world! Promise I'll get around to answering you guys very soon. Until then, here's some heartbroken Armie.  
> Enjoy xx

Armie doesn’t know what is good for him.

At all.

If he did, he wouldn’t be sitting here, in this situation. Again.

He wouldn’t be sitting on his couch on a Saturday morning with his best friend in his arms. His _crying_ best friend for god sake. He wouldn’t be tightening his arms around the sobbing mess that is Timmy, while trying shove the guilty feeling of exploiting his own best friend’s sadness. But he did. He feels guilty, because whenever Timmy gets dumped by yet another guy, he turns to Armie, and Armie gets to hold him close. Gets’ to be the one who nuzzles his nose into Timmy’s unbrushed hair, the flowery smell making him fell warm all over. He gets to feel the boy cling to him while he clings back himself with equal force. He gets to pretend for just a little while, that Timmy is his, that Timmy wants him just for him, and not just for his comforting words.

Armie knows deep down, that this is unhealthy, that someday the roles will be reversed, and Armie will be the sobbing, heartbroken one. Expect, by that time, Timmy won’t be there to cradle Armie, because he will have found someone who knows that Timmy is too precious not to keep. And Armie will be alone. And if it isn’t shitty to have a small hope that no one will ever notice how truly remarkable Timmy is, Armie doesn’t know what it is.

“And it’s not that I think he was the one or anything,“ Timmy hiccups, “it’s just that, it hurts, you know? Not being wanted.“ Timmy says, voice strangled and wet.

Humming in acknowledgement, knowing fully well how that feels, Armie continues rubbing Timmy’s back, saying “that’s not true. You are wanted.“

And Timmy doesn’t know, so he continues to trample all over Armies heart “that doesn’t count, though.“ And yeah, that hurt. Armie knows that he shouldn’t take it personally when Timmy is in this mood, but he can’t help but think to himself, _you don’t count._ The thought makes a stinging feeling flash through his whole body, and he knows that this will be one of those days where he will be extra touchy. Where everything will hurt a little more.

The worst might be the fact that he doesn’t even hold these things against Timmy. Never blames him, even though he, in some way, he is the source of Armies hurt. He just blames himself. Blames himself for falling for his best friend. For not being what Timmy wants. For not pulling himself together and getting over it. He blames himself a lot on days like these.

Swallowing, Armie comes as close to the truth as he dares when he says “come one Timmy, you know you’ll always have me“

“I know, but I just want to find someone who will settle down with me you know? It’s like, I’m twenty-six, and with the way things are going, I’ll probably end up alone in a sad old place with too many cats. By then you’ll be busy with your own life.“ Timmy says, pulling back from Armie, trying to dry his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweater.

To be honest, Armie thinks, he’s actually worried that it will be the opposite way around. That he will be the one with the cats, still hopelessly pining over something he can’t have. But he can’t tell Timmy that. So instead he removes Timmy’s hands from his face, using his own thumbs to dap up the remaining tears, saying “don’t worry, I’ll visit you once a week. Stocking you up on frozen pizzas and cat food.“ At that, Timmy lets out a sound that sounds like a mix between a laugh and a puff of air, giving Armie a small smile. “I can always count on you, can’t I?“

Feeling his heart swell with pride of having made Timmy smile, he assures him, saying “always.“

When Timmy puts on his shoes that afternoon, having spent the day re-watching parks and recreation with Armie, his eyes are back to being shinny green and he feels mostly all right again.

Pulling Timmy into a hug, Armie closes his eyes and inhales the scent of his best friend one last time before he’ll be alone once again. “Thanks man, for letting me cry all over you again“ Timmy chuckles, patting Armie on the back.

“You know I’d rather have snot on my t-shirt than having you being sad _and_ alone,“ Armie jokes. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.“

“Already forgiven,” Armie smiles.

With a wave and a “see you later“, Timmy opens the door and leaves Armie standing behind in his apartment. Sad and alone.

And he knew this was coming, that this is the price he pays for indulging in his feelings when Timmy is sad.

All kind of feelings starts whirling inside of him. The warm, fizzling feeling of having spent the day with the one person he wants the most, mixed with longing and dread. Longing for Timmy to be back in his arms like he had been when they sat on the couch. Dread, that the next time Timmy meets someone, he won’t be needing Armie for reassurance and comfort. That next time, Armie will be forced to be faced with the truth, that he will never be more than a friend. And Armie isn’t an idiot, he knows that it’s really just a question of when, not if. Because Timmy is the epitome of perfect. It’s just a matter of time before someone other than Armie realizes that.

Letting go of a sigh, Armie turns the lock on the door. Cleans up the living room and kitchen. Thinking that maybe if he gets rid of the clutter surrounding him, there’s a chance that the clutter in his head will disappear too.

When everything looks spotless, he goes to the bathroom, standing before the mirror. He really does look like someone who’s spend a Sunday, eating pizza and watching sit coms.

Throwing his clothes in the hamper, he steps into the shower and lets the hot water soak him up. It washes his hair and skin clean, but it does nothing to loosen up the tight ball of heavy blackness in his stomach. He knows the drill. It happens every time Timmy leaves after a day like this. Armie ends up wandering around his apartment, not really focusing on anything specific, just trying to divert his attention from the longing in the pit of his stomach, until it inevitably has grown big enough to make it impossible for Armie to concentrate on anything, and then ending up going to bed.

Sometimes, he will try to read. On the good days, he will be able to focus on the words for a short amount of time. On less good days, he will close his eyes, willing sleep to pull him under. On really bad days, sleep won’t come, and he’ll tell himself that this is the _last_ time, as he snakes his hand down beneath his boxers. Keeping his eyes closed, he imagines red lips, black curls and long pale fingers until he spills all over his own hand. Then, he will turn on his side and finally fall asleep before the tears has a chance of running past his closed eyelids and down his cheeks.

The following two weeks is fairly smooth sailing for the both of them. Timmy’s been too busy with work to go on bad dates, resulting in Armie actually being able to sleep and not feel like his heart has been run down every time he’s been spending time with Timmy.

Except that one night when they had been on their way to the movies, and Timmy had laughed loudly at something Armie said, throwing his head back, before slinging his arm around Armie, keeping him close until they reached the movie theater. Armie had felt like he was flying. He couldn’t help but wonder what the people walking by might think. Did they look like a couple? Did they look good together?

That was until they had made it to the cashier at the movie theater, and the tall dark-haired man had given Timmy a once over, obviously flirting. Timmy had winked at him before they had walked away. When Timmy had gone to the toilet in the middle of the movie, he had been gone longer than Armie thought usual. The reason for that had been apparent when Timmy had come back, smirk plastered on his face, leaning in to whisper in Armies ear “that hot guy from earlier just gave me his number, asking me out later. You don’t mind, do you?“

Armie felt his heart crash all the way through the floor.

That night, Armie had angrily kicked off his soaked pajama-pants before closing his eyes, counting backwards from 200, resolutely ignoring the tears soaking his pillow.

The next morning, Armie had woken up to his phone going off. Fumbling groggily for his jeans and pulling out his phone, seeing Nicks name flashing across the screen, he had grunted a raspy “what“ into the receiver. “Someone’s cheery today,“ Nick had answered. “I was calling to ask if you wanted to grab breakfast together?“

Rubbing a hand across his face as he sat back down at the edge of his bed, Armie looked at the discharged pajama-pants laying halfway beneath his bed. “Not really hungry,“ he had mumbled. On the other end, Nick had been silent for a minute before saying “give me 15 minutes,“ hanging up the phone.

True to his word, Nick let himself into Armies apartment 15 minutes later, calling out a “it’s me.“ Not getting an answer and not really expecting one either, Nick made his way further into the apartment, until standing at the doorway of Armies bedroom. Taking in the sight of his friend still laying under the duvet, back turned towards the door, Nick got all the confirmation that he needed. Armie wasn’t one to stay in the bed on a Saturday, defiantly not if it meant missing breakfast. Armie wasn’t okay, and Nick had a feeling that he knew why.

Sitting down at the edge of his bed, he pulled off his jacket and shoes before scooting up into the bed, spooning Armie from behind. “You with Timmy last night?“ he asked. Armie nodded. “You guys had fun?“ Armie shrugged. “Come on man, talk to me,“ Nick says, squeezing Armie against his chest.

Letting out a sigh, Armie mutters, “went to the movies. Just him and I. He went out with the guy at the cash register when the movie ended. I went home.“

“Oh, Arms,“ Nick sighs. Feeling a mix of sadness for Armie and agitation towards Timmy, Nick pulls in a deep breath before pulling at Armie, making him turn around, facing Nick.

“It’s stupid. It’s not like he owes me anything, and I’m perfectly capable of walking home myself,” Armie says, his eyes dull and mouth pointing downwards.

“Still kinda’ shitty to just abandon you like that,” Nick says.

“He didn’t, really. I told him it was fine. I was tired anyway,“ Armie mumbles.

“Well, you don’t look fine to me.” Armie doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. “It’s just… I guess I thought. I thought it’d just be the two of us. That maybe we would’ve gone out afterwards or something.“ At that, Armies bottom lip starts trembling slightly, his eyes clenching shut as he tries to calm his breathing.

Looking at Armie, Nicks knows that this time, Armie wouldn’t just bounce back as easily as he usually would. Come to think of it, Armie had been increasingly hurt by Timmy’s actions lately.

It’s not that Nick didn’t like Timmy. Not at all. He actually thought the guy was pretty cool, didn’t mind having him around. But that didn’t mean that he would let the guy trample all over Armies heart, acting completely oblivious to the damage he was very clearly doing. Even a blind guy would be able to detect how much Armie adored Timmy. If this was to continue, Nick thought, he would have to step in. Preferably before Armie was broken beyond repair.

“That’s not stupid at all,“ Nick says, rubbing his hands up and down Armies arms. “I know I’m a shitty substitute, and I don’t even speak French, but why don’t you go have pancakes with me? Everything gets better when you’ve had breakfast.”

“I guess that’s a fair point,” Armies answers.

“All-right, put on some clothes. I’ll wait in the living room.“

Then, Nicks gets up from the bed, grabbing his shoes and jacket.

“Hey, Nick?“ Nick turns around and looks at Armie who is now sitting upright in the bed, small smile on his face. “You’re not a shitty substitute,” Armie says.

At that, Nick throws him a beaming smile. “I know.“ Then he leaves Armie alone to get dressed.

* * *

Waking up, Timmy groans as the memories of last night comes back to him. He had been out for drinks with Lucas, the guy from the movies. It had been nice. He was fairly handsome, and he’d made Timmy laugh. He’d even been laughing when Timmy had made jokes, had kept touching him and looking at him like he was actually interested in more than just a hook up. Timmy had felt like had felt like maybe this guy could even be dating material.

But then Lucas’ boyfriend had showed up. And weren’t that just typical?

Timmy had been out of there before he had been dragged further into that mess, feeling like shit.

On his way home, his thoughts had been on Armie. Usually, he would have sought out his best friend in situations like these, moaning about how New York was filled with nothing but ass holes. Then, Armie would argue that that couldn’t possibly be true, and Timmy would agree and say that at least all the good ones were taken.

But this time, he went home to his apartment, instead of Armies. Not because he didn’t want to be around Armie, because he did. But because he felt like an ass. Had he really abandoned Armie like that? Timmy knew it was supposed to be just the two of them that night. He knew that Armie had been looking forward to it just as much as Timmy had. He knew he was in for an apology, but he just couldn’t deal with the acknowledgement that he had become so desperate to find a boyfriend, that he had ditched the one person who’d always be there for him.

Apparently, sleep hadn’t helped him getting rid of the guilt. To be honest, in hindsight he wishes that he had stayed with Armie instead of spending time with that cheating shit from the movies.

Just the thought of Armie making his way home, alone gives him a sinking feeling. He needs to talk to Armie. 

* * *

“Any plans for the rest of the day?“ Nick asks as he sips his coffee.

“Defiantly need to do some laundry when I get home. Probably going to end up watching Netflix for the rest of the day,“ Armie says, stuffing a piece of pancake into his mouth. “Why?“

“Would you mind if I joined you? Haven’t really gotten any plans myself today either.“

And that’s a big fat lie right there. Nick had plans, but looking at Armie right now, Nick isn’t going to let the guy mope around his apartment all day. So, he’s going to keep an eye on him. Not that Armie needs to know that, of course.

Judging by the way Armie shrugs his shoulders, Nicks chooses to interpret it like a “sure.“

“Heard anything from Timmy?“ Nick asks, knowing that Armies thoughts are circling around the guy anyway. Might as well address the problem at hand.

Checking his phone laying on the table, Armie furrows his brows, says “no,“ and he sounds disappointed. “Well, it is Saturday. He’s probably still asleep man.“

Looking out the window, seeming to be in deep thought for a moment, Armie just hums. Then, he shakes his head, knocks back the rest of his lukewarm coffee. “You ready to go?“ Armie asks Nick, nodding at the empty plates and cups in front of them as he starts to stand from the table.

Back at the apartment, Armie has loaded his washing machine and is now laying on the couch, long legs stretched out across the armrest. Sitting in the armchair beside the couch, Nick is watching Armie, contemplating what he is about to say. _What the hell,_ he thinks. “Have you considered maybe starting to date again?“

Looking back at him, Armie furrows his eyebrows, says “no. why would I? I’m perfectly fine by myself.“

Sitting up straight in the chair, Nick puts his elbows on his knees. “But that’s the thing. I don’t think you are. In fact, you seem less fine every time I see you these days.“

Armie is looking at him, face completely neutral, arms crossed in front of his chest. “What are you trying to say?“

Looking down at the floor before looking Armie in the eyes, Nick licks his lips. “I’m trying to say that maybe it’s time to move on. I mean, just hear me out-“ he says as Armie stands from the couch, moving towards the kitchen “for how long are you going to let him ruin you like this? Two more years? Or more?“

“Are you seriously proposing that I stop talking to my best friend just because of a stupid crush?” Armie asks, rummaging through the fridge until he finds a beer, taking a long swig from it.

“That’s the problem Armie! It’s not a stupid crush. You look at him like he hung the fucking moon!“

Just the thought of turning his back on Timmy makes Armies blood run cold. He can’t do that, it’s just not an option. Deep down, he knows that Nick is right. That he won’t recover from this as long as Timmy is around. Because every time he sees the guy, hears his voice, even thinks about him, he is back to square one. But Armie will suffer through the occasional bad days, because cutting Timmy out of his life is unthinkable.

“So what? It’ll pass. And I don’t do that, by the way.“

Opening his mouth to argue back, Nick gets interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door.

Placing the bottle on the kitchen counter, Armie shoots Nick a look, says “I’ll get it,“ before making his way to the door.

Taking a deep breath, Nick slumps back in the couch. Then he hears Armie surprised voice, saying “Timmy?“ And Nick mutters a “fucking hell“, pinching the bridge of his nose.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to deny that he feels something for Armie beyond friendship will only get him so far.

Opening the door, Armie immediately lights up. Standing before him is Timmy, rosy cheeks from the cold, curls blown wild by the wind. “Can I come in?“ he says, not sounding nearly as happy as Armie feels. “Sure, sure.“ Armie opens the door and steps aside.

“I’m not disturbing, am I?“ Timmy asks, standing in the middle of the hallway, still wearing all of his clothes and shoes.

“No, it’s just Nick.“ Nodding, Timmy looks down at his hands before looking back up at Armie, a worried look on his face.

“Is something wrong? Is it the guy from last night?“ Armie forces himself to ask the question. He’d actually rather not know if it went anything other than bad. To his luck, Timmy shakes his head, says “no, it’s because of you. Well, me, actually. But, also you.“

“So, who’s it about?“ Armie chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m so fucking sorry about last night, Armie. I shouldn’t have left you like that.“

And Armie thinks, no, you shouldn’t have. You should’ve stayed with me, and we would’ve had a fun night, just the two of us. We would’ve gone home to either of us, stayed on the couch until one of us fell asleep. And none of us would’ve been sad. But what he says is, “don’t worry about it Tim. I fell right asleep when I came home anyway.“

And Timmy has known Armie for a long time, so he doesn’t really buy it. Looks at Armie with doubt and guilt written all over his face, and Armie knows that he means it. That he really is sorry.

“Seriously, it’s fine. How was it anyway? Are you going to see him again?“

Holding his breath, he reminds himself that this is what Timmy needs from him, a friend.

“No… no. He uhm, turns out he had a boyfriend. But it doesn’t matter, I’m fine. I just hope that we’re fine too.“

Feeling the ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach starting to loosen, Armie pulls Timmy into a tight hug. “We’ve never been better, I promise.“ And Armie believes it himself, because the smell of Timmy hits his nose and he can feel the boy tighten his arms around him and nuzzle his face against Armies chest. _Everything is fine._

“He sounds like a complete dick, by the way,“ Armie murmurs.

“Yeah he was. Let’s not talk about him anymore.”

“Sure.” Armie pulls back enough to look at Timmy, says “we should go join Nick in the living room.”

The next couple of hours goes by with Armie sitting in the couch, Timmy’s feet on top of his thighs, Nick still sitting in the armchair. Every once in a while, Timmy twists his toes against Armies stomach, sending him a smile. Then, Armie will either give Timmy a foot massage or just run his hand up and down the smaller boys’ legs.

Every time Timmy’s phone lights up with a message, Timmy locks the screen, turning the phone upside down on the table, before even looking at it.

And every time Nicks throws at questioning look at Armie, Armie will raise his eyebrow or look away.

At some point, Timmy gets up to use the bathroom. While he’s gone, Nick turns to Armie, says, “you’re doing it again man, it’s all most too much.“ “I don’t know what you’re talking about“ Armie denies.

Rolling his eyes but smiling fondly, Nick stands up and pockets his phone, says “right, I’m off. Got to run some errands before it gets too late.“

“Sure,“ Armie stands up from the couch, pulls Nick into a hug, pats him on the back. “thank you though… for this morning.“

And Nick knows that Armie is aware that he’s been watching over him. Knows that Armie actually is thank full for it. “Next time, just give me a call before losing too much sleep over it, all right?“

Walking towards the door, Nick calls out “See you later Timmy!“ before closing the door behind him.

As the bathroom door opens, Armie lays down on the couch, this time taking up all of the space.

“Oh my god, there’s a giant in my spot!” Timmy exclaims as he throws himself down on top of Armie, giggling as Armie starts to tickle him lightly.

“And there’s a tiny noodle on top of me,“ Armie teases back, which earns him a light slap on the bicep. Laying completely still again, Timmy closes his eyes and cuddles into Armie, feeling strong hands squeezing his arms for a second. What he doesn’t see, is Armie closing his eyes, a serene expression falling over his features. What he doesn’t know, is that Armies heart isn’t just beating from the small tickle fight, but also from having Timmy so close. If Armie could lie here forever, he would.

Raising his head, pushing away from Armies body, Timmy smiles down at Armie before removing himself completely. “Your hair is tickling“ Armie laughs, acting as if he is bothered by having Timmy close enough to actually having the boy’s hair in his face. “I’m going, I’m going“ Timmy says, sitting at the end of the couch, placing Armies head in his lap.

“You know that I’m going to fall asleep on you, right?“ Armie says, making himself comfortable.

Timmy doesn’t answer. Instead he starts threating his fingers through Armies hair while looking at the TV.

Fifteen minutes later, and Armie is sound asleep, small puffs of air escaping his mouth.

Timmy has long ago abandoned the show on the TV, in favor of looking down at the sleeping face resting on his thighs. He’s stopped moving his hand, afraid of waking up Armie. And he doesn’t really know why he doesn’t want Armie to wake up. Just knows that right now, he feels warm and comfortable and _fuzzy_. Fuzzy when he thinks about how Armie has been a part of his life since high school. How during the first math lesson in freshman year, Armie had looked at Timmy half an hour into class and cracked a joke about the teacher, following up with “you really don’t like math, do you?“ He had smiled at Timmy and Timmy had felt so safe already. Had felt his shoulders sack in relief, had admitted how he just didn’t get any of it, how he was one hundred percent sure that he was going to fail. Armie had sat with him the rest of the year, not even once making Timmy feel stupid for not getting half of it. Of course, Timmy had passed with flying colors.

He feels warm when he looks at Armies tousled dark hair, the scruff on his strong jaw and long eyelashes resting on his cheeks. For a second, Timmy almost reaches out and traces his right eyebrow with his thumb, but he stops himself.

What is he even doing? Resolutely placing his hand on the back of the couch, Timmy shakes his head and focuses back on the TV. But he can’t stop the nagging feeling that something’s going on inside of him. Suddenly he feels _off._ Tries to assure himself that he’s probably just still feeling bad for having left Armie last night. That only makes him furrow his eyebrows even more though, his heart squeezing with guilt.

The sound of Armie sighing deeply before cuddling further into Timmy, makes him look back down at the sleeping man. _It’s a lost battle_ , Timmy thinks. Trying to deny that he feels something for Armie beyond friendship will only get him so far. He shouldn’t even be sitting here, letting his feelings run wild. He should leave, before Armie wakes up and looks at Timmy with those stupid big blue eyes that never judges Timmy, never blames him or doubts him. Looking at Armies peaceful face one last time, Timmy slowly and carefully replaces his thighs with a pillow, silently stretching when standing. Stares at Armies sleeping form for a beat, making sure he didn’t wake up. Then, after having covered Armie with a blanket, he mutes the TV, writes a note that he leaves on the coffee table. Puts on his shoes, grabs his jacket and slips out the door as quietly as possible. Waits outside the door, just for a minute. When he doesn’t hear anything on the other side of the door, he leaves the building, stepping out into the cold autumn wind. Takes a deep breath to steady himself, shakes his head as if to shake the images of sleeping Armie off, and briskly makes his way home.

Once inside of his apartment, he turns on all of the lights in attempt to make the place feel cozy and welcoming. And it’s not that it’s not a nice place he’s got, it is. But it’s just a place, really. It’s always quiet, sometimes too quiet and Timmy will try to make some noise. Sometimes he’ll turn on music, light some candles, willing himself to be comfortable even though he’s alone. He usually ends up sitting on the couch, staring blankly at his TV before getting up, blowing out the candles, and going to sleep as not to feel the loneliness that always creeps in. On other days, he’ll just give up beforehand, going out to try and find someone who’ll make him forget that no matter what time he gets home that night, no one will wonder where he is.

This time though, he just heads straight to his bedroom, takes off all of his clothes and gets into bed. Turning on his phone, he has two messages from a guy whose number he’d gotten last week, asking if he had any plans for tonight. That was several hours ago. _Not in the mood anyway,_ Timmy thinks. He checks his phone one last time to make sure that Armie hasn’t woken up and tried to reach him. _Why would he even do that? You left a note, he knows you went home._ Timmy thinks. _And if has woken up, it’s not like he’ll need you in order to go back to sleep or anything._ Timmy puts his phone away and closes his eyes. His last thoughts being on long black eyelashes, warm hands on his feet and a deep voice saying his name again and again. 

* * *

When Armie wakes up, it’s completely dark, safe for the light from the TV casting shadows in his living room. Confused as to where Timmy is and why it’s so quiet, Armie sits up and notices the slip of paper on his coffee table.

_Morning, sleepyhead_

_Went home, thought I’d let you get some sleep._

_Thanks for letting me hog you for the whole day, though._

_\- Timmy_

Feeling something akin to disappointment, Armie turns off the TV and sits for a moment in the pitch-black apartment. The only sound being cars on the street and the hum of his fridge. 

_Why did I spend the time I had with him on sleeping?_ He asks himself, rubbing his hands around his tired face. He knows he’s being pathetic, that he should just get up and go to bed. Be grateful that Timmy had spent the majority of his Saturday on Armies couch. But Armie is rarely rational when he’s just woken up from his naps, alone. So, he lets himself feel the sadness and melancholy spreading throughout his body. Thinks about how nice it had been to have Timmy close for the whole day. Thinks about how much he wishes that the boy was still here. If he could just hug him close, bring him to bed and just hold him. _Fuck I miss you,_ he thinks to himself, starring at the spot where Timmy had been sitting before Armie fell asleep. Reaching for his phone, he opens up his chat with Timmy and types out “ _wish you hadn’t left.”_ He doesn’t send it though. Just stares at the letters, before deleting the whole thing and goes to his bedroom.

In there, he takes off all of his clothes and pulls back the covers. Then, changes his mind. Goes back to the living room, grabs the blanket and pillow, presses his nose into the fabric. _Timmy._ Goes back to his bed, pulls up the blanket first, then his duvet above the blanket. Hugs the pillow to his chest and allows himself to think about the way Timmy’s curls always tickles his nose, how nice it had felt when the boy had stroked his hair. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’ve been expecting that would happen for some time though, haven’t we?” Nick asks carefully.
> 
> “Yeah… I guess. I just… thought I’d be ready for it by then.“ At that, Armies bottom lip starts to tremble, a single tear escaping down his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst has arrived!  
> Needless to say, I only read this through once before posting it, so you've been warned.

A week later, Timmy hurries around his apartment, grabbing what-ever clothes is nearest and pulls it on. It’s Monday morning, and he slept through his alarm. So, that leaves him exactly fifteen minutes to get dressed, have breakfast and coffee, brush his teeth and fix whatever it is that happened to his hair during the night. Well, looks like breakfast will have to be another time.

Flipping the button on his coffee machine, he runs down his hallway, sticks his toothbrush into his mouth and tries to comb his hands through his hair. It so typical of him to turn up to work like this, on a day like _this._ He’s supposed to attend at mandatory teachers-seminar at the high school he teaches at, and he can’t turn up looking like _this_.

Spitting out the toothpaste he skids back to the kitchen, takes one, two, three sips of his burning hot coffee, scalding his tongue in the process. Grabbing his bag, he throws on shoes and jacket, locks the door behind him and hurries off toward the subway. 

Arriving five minutes late at the school, Timmy pushes the door to the auditorium open as quietly as possible, scanning the room before finding an empty spot beside a man he hasn’t seen before and sits down. Slumping down into his chair, he directs his stare at the speaker that is currently going on about teaching techniques that’s supposed to work on the unmotivated teenagers crowding the halls outside of the auditorium. Thirty minutes into the lecture and Timmy has lost interested all ready and is now starring at his nails. Wonders what he should make for dinner, if remembered to turn off his coffee machine. Then, he’s pulled out of his train if thoughts when someone pokes his shoulder. Looks to the right and realizes that the man he’d chosen to sit beside is actually pretty good looking. Square jaw, blond hair swept back and kind, brown eyes. The man smiles at him, leans in and whispers “how is this supposed to motivate a bunch of teenagers? I’d bet that no one in here has been listening to a word for the last thirty minutes.“

Letting out a quiet laugh, Timmy smiles, says “my thoughts exactly.“

The guy keeps smiling at Timmy, holds his hand out toward him, whispers “I’m Jack, by the way.“

Gripping the offered hand in a firm shake, Timmy whispers back “Timothée. Most people call me Timmy, though.“

“Timothée,“ Jack murmurs, not letting go of Timmy’s hand, “beautiful.“ And Timmy feels a blush creeping up on his face. He’s not sure if Jack is referring to his name or Timmy himself, but it makes him chuckle nervously none the less. “There’s a break in five minutes, what do you say we get out of here and go find ourself a cup of coffee?“ Jack asks, letting go of Timmy’s hand.

Not knowing what to do with his now empty hand, Timmy brushes an astray curl behind his ear. _Is he asking me out on a date? Seems like it. Probably shouldn’t skip this though… oh, whatever._ Timmy thinks to himself. “Sounds good,“ Timmy says, shy smile on his face. For the remaining five minutes, Timmy tries to listen to the speaker, but has a hard time ignoring the feeling of being watched. The feeling is confirmed when he throws a side glance at Jack who sends him a wink, then looks straight ahead.

Coffee with Jack turned out to be more fun than the teachers-seminar. In the forty-five minutes they had sat and talked, Timmy learned that Jack was twenty-eight years old, had just bought a house not far from Timmy’s apartment and taught social studies at the high school across town. When Timmy had told Jack that he taught drama, Jack had seemed almost overly fascinated, which made Timmy blush once again. When they’d been about to part ways, Jack had put a hand on Timmy’s shoulder, said “I really enjoyed talking to you, Timmy. Would you like to go out sometime this week? Like, on a real date.“ And Timmy had to remember to close his mouth. _A real date? So this was a date._ Hoping against hope that this wouldn’t end up the way these things usually did for Timmy, he’d said yes. Had exchanged numbers with Jack who’d pulled him into a quick but tight hug, said “Thank you,“ and walked away, waving at Timmy with a big smile. 

Getting home that afternoon, Timmy had looked himself in the mirror, only then seeing his sweater being inside out. Smacking the palm of his hand against his forehead, he’d groaned at told himself, _pull yourself together man._

* * *

Two days later, Timmy is standing in front of the mirror, debating on what to wear. He doesn’t want to be overdressed, but then he thinks about his sweater being inside out the last time he saw Jack and feels like he should at least make an effort this time. He pulls on a pair of black pants, a thin grey sweater, dons it with brown leather boots and a long black coat. His curls look perfectly springy and shiny. Pocketing his phone, he steps out the door, heading for the small restaurant he and Jack decided to meet in front of. At first, Jack had suggested that he’d pick up Timmy at his apartment. Timmy had insisted that they’d meet in front of the restaurant. Not that he didn’t want Jack to know where he lived, more that he didn’t want this to feel too important. He knew that if Jack ended up not wanting to see him again, it would be worse if Timmy had gotten his hopes up because of some ridiculous old school act.

So, he heads off to the restaurant on his own, seeing Jack already standing there, even though Timmy is five minutes early. Waves at him when their eyes meet, says “hello,“ when he’s close enough for Jack to hear him. “Timmy, you look amazing!” Jack says, smiling as he reaches out his hand, squeezes Timmy’s bicep. “You ready to go in?” Timmy nods his head, wondering if Jack is always throwing compliments at people or if it’s just at Timmy. Either way, Timmy doesn’t mind. Doesn’t like to admit it, but he swells by the confirmation that he is good enough, that he’s worthy of someone’s affection.

“I should’ve asked you this sooner, but how come your name sounds so un-American?“ Jack asks in the middle of the main course, looking at Timmy as if he is genuinely interested in the origin of Timmy’s name. Taking a sip of his wine, Timmy puts down his glass, says, “My dad is French, but I grew up here in New York. So yeah, I’ve mostly just gone by Timmy, saves me and everyone from a lot of mispronunciations” He looks down at the table, knowing that his name makes him sound like a snob. “Hmm… I like both versions. Timothée is elegant, beautiful. Timmy is cute. Perky. Both names fit you perfectly.“

Looking up, Timmy notices that Jack is leaning in closer, chin resting on his hand. His eyes are curious, soft and warm. Timmy feels wanted. Like maybe, just maybe, this won’t end up with a surprise boyfriend or lame excuses as to why they aren’t going to do this again. “That’s probably the most elaborate analysis anyone has ever done on my first name,“ Timmy smiles.

“Well, if you ask me, people should pay more attention to the beautiful things in life,” Jack winks, takes another bite of his steak.

They talk some more, conversation flowing easily. Timmy tells Jack about his hobbies that includes playing the piano, drawing, and of course, cinema and theater. Jack tells Timmy about his parent’s house in Vermont, his older sister who had her second child recently, making Jack the uncle of two small girls. And Timmy smiles the whole night. Because Jack is nice, attentive and he keeps on making Timmy feel like he’s the only person in the room. Which is why, when they’ve finished their food, made it outside on the street Timmy agrees when Jack suggest he walks Timmy home. It’s the reason Timmy let’s Jack hold his hand as they walk. The reason why Timmy doesn’t object to Jack kissing him on the lips after having told Timmy that “he’d really like to do this again.“ Timmy feels good, because tonight he doesn’t feel as lonely when he locks his door, only turning on the light in the entrance.

The warm feeling, however, disappears when he turns on his phone.

“ _hey, you free tonight? had a long day, could honestly use one of your hugs right now_ ”

One missed call from Armie. An hour later he’d received one more text.

“ _Tim?_ “

The last message came in two hours ago. Timmy felt a tight ball of regret and guilt forming in his stomach. Immediately calling Armie back , Timmy simultaneously starts pulling off his boots, wrestling out of his jacket. When the call goes to voicemail, he tries again. Going to voicemail again. Frowning he checks the time. Eleven pm. Armie probably went to sleep… he hopes. Hopes that Armie isn’t mad at him for not answering when he obviously needed him. Decides to just text him, then.

“ _Sorry! Went out, had my phone one silent_ “

“ _Are you alright? Tried calling you back_ “

Five minutes later and no answer, he types out, “ _If you’re still up you can just call, or I can come over?_ “

Brushing his teeth, taking off his clothes and crawling into bed, Timmy constantly checks his phone. When nothing comes in, he sends one last text to Armie. “ _Goodnight Armie_ ”, puts down his phone and tries to fall asleep.

Feeling his mind start to shut off, the last arbitrary pictures and thoughts jumbling around his brain, Timmy is pulled out of his slumber by the sound of his phone buzzing. Immediately thinking (hoping) that it’s Armie, Timmy grabs his phone, screws up his eyes when the light hits him.

“ _Just wanted to say thank you for an amazing night. Sweet dreams, Timothée._ “

Feeling a little disappointed that it isn’t Armie texting him, Timmy debates where ether to answer Jack. Decides not to do it today. Places his phone back on the nightstand, closes his eyes, tries not to think about Armie. Fails miserably. 

* * *

Four days later, Armie and Timmy are having coffee together at their favorite café. Armie is in the middle of telling Timmy about his latest idea for a book that he’s writing, when Timmy’s phone lights up for the tenth time in half an hour. Stopping midsentence, Armie tilts his head, looks at Timmy and says, “you’ve met someone, haven’t you?” Not as a question, but as a statement. Because Armie can tell by the way Timmy seems to constantly be on his phone, small secretive smile on his lips. And he’s been busy lately, doesn’t spend as much time with Armie as he usually does. It leaves a cold feeling in the pit of Armies stomach.

Timmy nods, says “his name is Jack. We met at that teachers-seminar I told about the other week?”

And maybe Armie had expected that someday, this would get old. This feeling of panic and cold anxiety whenever Timmy meets someone new. But it doesn’t. In fact, this time it feels like it hits Armie double as hard. Because there’s something about the look on Timmy’s face, and Armie has a feeling that this time it’s more serious than usual. Trying with all of his might, Armie keeps the anxiety at bay, tries to smile and look calm when he says, “really? Tell me about him”

And Timmy does, all the while making Armie feel the cold dread grow bigger and bigger. Tries to hide it but doesn’t succeed completely, because Timmy is almost sure that he sees something akin to disappointment crossing Armies face. But then it’s gone, and Timmy convinces himself that he imagined the whole thing.

That night, when Timmy is alone, he cries. He cries because Armie doesn’t care that Timmy is dating someone else. _Of course, he doesn’t_ he thinks to himself, _because he isn’t the idiot who fell in love with his best friend. You are._

So, Timmy cries out all of his tears and mourns the loss of the one thing that he wanted the most but could never have. Then, he dries the tears from his face and decides that this is the last time. The last time he cries over Armie. The last time he allows himself to dream about Armie. From now on, he’s going to forget about his feeling for Armie, and focus on Jack instead. Jack who’s nice, handsome and smart. Jack who want’s Timmy and deserves to be treated with respect.

He’ll get over Armie and hopefully, one day he’ll be able to fall in love with Jack.

* * *

When Armie gets home, he paces aimlessly around his apartment for almost an hour before he calls Nick.

“Armie“

“I think… I think this is the time where I call you before I lose too much sleep,“ Armie says, voice breaking slightly at the end.

“You want me to come over?“ Nick asks. Armie looks around his apartment. Looks at the couch where he and Timmy spend countless hours together. Looks at the kitchen island where they’d eaten together, worked on each of their work projects, had coffee together. Then, he catches sight of Timmy’s green hoodie in the corner of his armchair.

“I was thinking, maybe I could go to yours?“ Armie asks, biting his lip, willing the tears to stay behind.

“Of course, anything you need“

“Thank you.“

Armie hangs up, grabs his stuff and leaves his apartment and everything that reminds him of Timmy. 

* * *

Buzzing Armie in, Nick unlocks his door and steps out into the hallway, listening to Armies steps getting closer as he makes his way up the stairs. Just as he feared, Armies blue eyes has gone gray and dull. The usually strong, confident man looks lost and fragile.

“Come on in,“ Nick says, placing his hand on Armies shoulder, following behind him.

“Thanks for just letting me show up like this, I know it’s a worknight and you’ve probably got stuff to do,“ Armie says, looking small.

“Just shut up and come in, “ Nick says, smiling at Armie who kicks off his shoes and follows Nick to the kitchen. “Did you eat?“

Shaking his head, Armie says “I don’t really have that much of an appetite right now.“

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Nick crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want me to act like I didn’t just hear you say no to my lasagna?”

Looking up at Nick, Armie says, “I think it’s for real this time, Nick. He’s met someone. They’re constantly texting each other when they aren’t together, and when he talks about him, he gets this smile on his face. I’ve barely seen him all week.”

Nick feels his heart breaking a little for Armie. But he can’t say that he didn’t hope that this would happen sooner rather than later. Not that he wants Armie to be completely heart broken, _of course_ he doesn’t. But he can’t keep watching Armie hope for something that is so obviously not going to happen.

He can’t keep watching the man that he’s in love with being broken by another man.

So yes, he hoped that someday Timmy would find someone for real. Would stop tormenting Armie (even though he obviously had no idea) , so that Armie could see that there’s people right in front of him, waiting for him to be ready to be love.

Whenever that happens, Nick will be right there, ready to show Armie what it feels like to be the one on the receiving end. If he’ll just let him.

“We’ve been expecting that would happen for some time though, haven’t we?” Nick asks carefully.

“Yeah… I guess. I just… thought I’d be ready for it by then.“ At that, Armies bottom lip starts to tremble, a single tear escaping down his cheek.

Nick really can’t take this anymore. Pushing off the kitchen counter, he takes two long strides and envelopes Armie in his arms, holding him close as he clings onto the back of Nicks shirt, tears soaking up the front.

“I don’t know what to do, Nick,” Armie cries. “When will it stop hurting? Will I ever be alright again?“

Tightening his arms and pressing his nose into Armies hair, Nick answers, “you’ll be fine Arms, I promise. I’ll do everything in my power to make it stop hurting, you hear me? Whatever you need, I’m right here.“

Pressing his face into Nicks neck, Armie whispers, “Please don’t leave me.“

Feeling his own tears welling up, Nick closes his eyes, presses his lips to the top of Armies head, says, “I would never.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate Timmy too much! he's only doing what he thinks is best for the both of them. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think so far in the comments :)

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this first chapter, feel free to comment! :)  
> Next one will be up in a few days.


End file.
